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Chapter 4- Fairytales
Mia
Mia saw the sprinkle of a tear in Alia's hazel eyes and immediately wrapped her arms around Alia, seating herself in Alia's lap. She could fell Alia recoil under her with surprise.
"What are you doing?" Alia shook.
"Hugging you," Mia shrugged getting off of Alia's lap, "You were crying." She said simply, taking Alia aback. Mia really was just a kid. Mia sighed, and turned towards the closed window.
"So, you want to paint?" Alia broke in, removing the canvas and brushed from her bag.
Mia nodded, taking the paint from her. Alia set the canvas up on the wall in front of her.
"We need water," Alia said lightly. Mia's hair fell into her eyes as she reached for the button near her bed. A few seconds later, a plump nurse, who reminded Alia too much of Dolores Umbridge, poked her head into the room.
"We need water." Mia repeated Alia's words. The nurse nodded and mentioned for Alia to follow her outside to fetch water. Mia leaned back against the wall behind her bed, staring at the empty canvas.
The last person to visit Mia had been Mrs. Greaten. A thin, tall women with skin so frail that it might tear if one touched it. She would always keep her hair in a tight bun above her head, which showcased her large forehead. Bangles would always dingle of her wrists, jingling when she brought her fingers to her forehead, calming her crinkling brow. Whenever she would walk into the room, she would bring an aroma of flowery perfume and the inexplicable stench of radish. Mrs. Greaten or Mrs. G, as Mia called her, was Mia's 'counsellor'. She used to show up every month with a fake bright, "Hello,", flip flops slapping against the floor. Mia couldn't help but cackle at Mrs. Greaten formal attire of a plaid skirt and white shirt as opposed to her informal flip flops. Although she despised how nosy Mrs. G was, Mia missed chuckling at her. It seemed like everything happy in Mia's life was stolen from her except of course the pendant that hung around her neck.
"Hey," Alia barged in to her thoughts, snapping her fingers in front of Mia's eyes, "Ready to paint? I have the water here." She lifted up the glass, the milky asylum water dripping from the rim.
"No, I'm not in the mood now," Mia replied, crossing her hands in front of her chest.
"What?!" Alia's voice rose in pitch.
"I don't want to paint," Mia pouted, "Do you want to know the names of all my friends?" She pointed towards the soft toys sprawled across her bed. Alia opened her mouth, bewildered in Mia's non-chalant change of mind. Not waiting for an answer Mia began, "This is Fur," she pointed at the white bear, "he loves to eat biscuits," she lifted the crocodile, "this is Snappers, he doesn't like sugar cause it spoils its big teeth and gives him cavities," Mia hugged the yellow beaked duck, "this is Constantine, she loves to fly-"
"You don't want to paint?" Alia cut through Mia's monologue. Mia shook her head vigorously. "I want you to tell me a story," Mia's eyes grew round, pleading Alia to tell her a story. Alia looked down at her hands, shocked at Mia's rapid distractions.
"But, I'm here so you can paint," Alia began.
"I don't do things I don't want to. Tell me a story."
"I was hired to help you paint!"
"Tell me a story."
"We have to paint."
Mia scowled, "You have to tell me a story."
"You have to paint, Mia."
"No I don't."
"Yes you do,"
"I don't do stuff I don't want to!"
"You are painting," Alia stared at her intently, pointing at Mia.
"You are telling me a story," Mia mimicked Alia, copying Alia's menacing expression. Alia burst out in a cloud of raining laughter.
"Painting,"
"Story!"
"Paint, Mia."
"Story,"
"You know what, missy? You might be stubborn but I'm even more stubborn, so watch out."
Mia gave Alia a sly look, "But I'm the kid. So I decide. Nurse said."
Alia rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. "We are painting. Whether you like it or -"
Mia stuck her index fingers in her ears and began singing at the top of her voice, "Story, story, story, story, story, story."
Alia gave out a defeated sigh, and threw her hands in the air. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you a story," she screeched over Mia's bleating. Mia sat up straighter, attention fully on Alia. "Do you mind if it's a real story?" Alia asked, unable to think of fairytales other than Cinderella. Mia shook her head, pulled her feet onto the bed, leaned her head against her knees and waited for Alia to start her story.
Alia cleared her throat, "There was a woman once. She was born and raised in Farah, Afghanistan. When she was ten, her father was blown to pieces by a rocket, leaving her mother, who wasn't allowed to work, alone with her. Her mother had no choice but to send her to an orphanage where they would give her food, clean water and shelter. At that time Afghanistan was a war zone, a war between the colonies, a war for the Soviet and a war amongst the Taliban and the United States-"
"What's a war?" Mia interrupted.
"It's a fight, Mia. A scary fight. Where they use weapons - stuff, that kill people easily." Alia looked at Mia's eyes as they widened with surprise.
"Why was there war?"
Alia was taken aback at this question, trying to reduce the answer to help Mia understand it. "Well, the Taliban are these people who like their religion very very much and they want to protect it, so they fight. When the Taliban were in Afghanistan, there was this group of people called the Al-Qaeda and they were lead by this person called Osama Bin Laden. And one day, two buildings in America were blown up by the guy Osama and so they Americans got angry and fought with the group-"
"Did they kill the man?"
"Yeah, they did. But later, ten years later. Now, don't interrupt okay. Let me tell you the-"
"But why did the man blow the buildings up?"
"Mia," Alia warned.
"And how come the Taliban let it happen? And what did the Americans do to Osama whatshisname to make him do it? Once I read a book about this guy with no nose who blew people up with his wand because he was evil. I don't think these guys are like him though. Have you read that book? Do you know if those guys have noses?"
Alia giggled at Mia's eagerness, "Okay, now, chill. Listen to the story now okay. Questions later. The orphanage the women went to was filthy and under funded - they had no money. She stayed there for three years with the head of the office, a very nice man. After the three years, the head of the office was killed because he was teaching them, especially the girls how to study-"
"Did they get homework? Mrs. Greaten used to give me homework."
"Shh. When the head of the office got killed, the woman was thirteen and some men took her away and made her marry this ugly man who was fifty years old. The man married her and took her to his house. At his house he made her do things she didn't want him to do-"
"Like kiss her?"
"Yeah, like kiss her. And after her kissed her, she had a little baby girl. But the man didn't want a baby girl so he kissed her even more and he kept kissing her but every time she had a baby it was a girl. So the man got very angry and hit her very hard for many years. He used belts to hit her and sometimes he even used his slippers. By the time she was twenty, she had had three teeth knocked out of her mouth and she had scars all over her body. One day, the man came home very angry because he had no money left. He slapped the woman again and again and then said a prayer and then kissed her again, hoping for a boy. But when she had a baby, it was a girl. The man was in office trying to make money and the woman didn't want her baby to get killed again. So she ran away with her baby. Women are not allowed to run away and be alone so she went with this bearded man who pretended to be her husband. The bearded man made her kiss him in return for his favor. By the time she had reached Pakistan, she had another baby in her tummy. In Pakistan, she spent a year at the border, gave birth there and then flew to America by stealing money from a nearby shop. By the time she reached America, she was tired and sick. She died of sickness and left her two daughters on the street when she couldn't walk anymore. The daughters were found by this young couple, who were very rich and the couple brought them up."
Crystal tears formed in Mia's eyes as she, once again, wrapped her arms around Alia's neck. "Who was the woman?," Mia inquired.
Alia took a breath, "She was my mother," she sighed, "And that is how me and my kid sister reached America."